


Partnership

by moth2fic



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:29:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: Two important men find each other more important than the rest of the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a picture seen on Facebook. It was clearly a manipulation and I was able to trace the original, which was an early twentieth century photograph of two men in a BDSM relationship. However, I was unable to find the source of the manipulation. It simply appeared all over social media starting on 31st December 2016. As I can't attribute the source I am linking to the picture which I saved to my LiveJournal scrapbook. You may wish to follow the link but it is not essential to understanding the ficlet. 
> 
> http://moth2fic.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/5339/409986

They were usually tired. It was such hard work serving their respective countries, making sure they were great again (great and united, great in their unity). But sleep was elusive - it was difficult being constantly brave, delivering destruction and despair to enemies outside and inside the borders. So they found solace in their games. 

There was a little club where they could indulge their fantasies, like-minded people applauding whatever of their affair they cared to make public. They had a room there.

Vlad felt empowered when he had a pet to look after, to cosset, to train, to bring to a state of perfection. He chose the collar and chain carefully. The black and silver matched their play wear. That, in turn, echoed their official clothing although lacking the official badges of authority or allegiance. 

His pet was coming along nicely. There had been a moment of concern when, perhaps getting too deep, too fast into his new role, he had growled at everyone, even Vlad. But that bit of misbehaviour was over. The punishment had been brief but exquisite and afterwards the pet had tweeted like a bird, expressing love, loyalty, his abject apologies, ever since.

Admirers only saw the surface, of course. They couldn't follow into the dark space behind the wall where whispered commands were followed, the whips hung, the clamps lay ready, and the paddle was in daily, or rather nightly, use. Vlad enjoyed everything so much. It soothed him after his dangerous flights across the border, and he knew the submission soothed his pet, too, after his efforts repelling invading hordes. Touch inspired, skin sang to skin, torture worked perfectly.

During his daytime work, Don's skin would tingle in anticipation, so that sometimes he could barely remember where he was or what he was saying. Vlad's hands would itch in a matching expectancy, ready to use the carefully styled toys or simply to slap. 

Once discipline was established, it became a repetitive and perversely normal background to their evenings together. Later, they could hold each other, murmuring sweet nothings that did not speak of killings or evictions, but encouraged a view of a rosy future. They would rule hand in hand, stepping together into a time of plenty (for them) and plenty of misery for anyone who had ever dared oppose them. Vlad's hand, naturally, was bigger, and he used it to caress, to stroke, to bring to completion. Sometimes he was obliged to see to his own completion as well. 

When they left their room in the club, something that happened less and less as the daytime work grew fiercer and the evenings were all they had of peace, they could sometimes be seen in a pose that reminded people of truer, healthier, pet and master relationships. Vlad would stand erect and victorious, one hand grasping his pet's chain very firmly (maybe to prevent escape), the other cupping his head. The pet would rest his head on his master's thigh, snuggled close. Both of them could be seen gazing into the distance, their expressions proud and happy, whatever was happening around them. They were often to be found at the foot of the stairs, looking outwards rather than up. 

Don, in his leather costume, would seem to flow quietly into Vlad, as if knowing that in the end they would flow, inextricably bound together, home to the blood red sea. History would praise them, and the coming generations would agree they belonged (tied by twisted ropes of pain and pleasure, chosen to represent the masses in their sadomasochistic satisfaction) in each other's arms.


End file.
